


What's Under the Scattered Lines

by cold_feets



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cold_feets/pseuds/cold_feets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombiefic.</p><p>Dennison falls with a grunt, and Neal falls back against the wall, heart pounding dizzyingly fast in his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Under the Scattered Lines

Neal's first kill is Dennison in accounting, and he knows it won't be his last. He fires on instinct, some base need for survival kicking in and making him raise the gun, forcing him to keep his eyes open, aiming true, and wincing at the recoil, even though all he can think of is the picture on Dennison's desk of his wife and his two laughing girls.

Dennison falls with a grunt, and Neal falls back against the wall, heart pounding dizzyingly fast in his chest. He shuts his eyes and tries to catch his breath, and when his knees start to buckle, he gives in and slides to the floor.

At the sound of footsteps approaching, he steels himself, raises his gun again. He knows the shot would draw out more if they were lurking nearby.

The door swings open, and it's Peter. Just Peter. Neal lets out a breath and slumps back against the wall.

"Neal!"

Peter scans the room quickly, taking in Dennison and then Neal against the wall. Diana and Jones appear a moment later and hold the room, weapons trained on the two doorways, eyes sharp, while Peter drops to his knee in front of Neal.

"You okay?"

"I shot him, Peter."

"I know. It's all right."

Neal can't look away from the twisted form of Dennison's body, freshly turned and still looking very much like their colleague. It's hard to imagine that some part of him wasn't still alive in there, not with his tie still knotted, his wedding band in place, a cut from shaving on his neck.

"Neal, look at me."

Neal feels a hand on his face and flinches at the contact without meaning to, his hand tightening around his gun.

"Neal."

He looks up at Peter, his vision blurred, each breath shaking. "I can't--"

"I need you with me," Peter says. "We're gonna find a way out of this, but I need you to stay with me. Okay?"

Neal's gaze strays to Dennison again, the dull, dead stare, his arm stretched across the floor, still reaching towards Neal.

"Neal."

He shuts his eyes and closes his hand around Peter's wrist, feeling the steady, reassuring pulse beneath his fingers. He takes a few deep breaths and nods. He hears Peter let out a slow breath, and for just a second, he leans in and presses his forehead against Neal's. Then he's pushing himself back to his feet and holding out his hand to help Neal up.

"Let's go."


End file.
